


Soon Love

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-12
Updated: 2006-01-12
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: He knows it won’t be much longer





	Soon Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

“Carolyn said her first word today. You should have seen her, love. She was grinning and _knew_ she’d done something important. She has your smile, you know? I see her and think about you, remember your laugh and your smile. You’d be so proud of her. Mark and Elizabeth are expecting another baby, our fifth great-grandchild. And Janie finally got her promotion. Youngest supervisor in the Department of Mysteries ever. She takes after her grandmum, everyone says so. Even has your wild hair, though the red is definitely from my side of the family.”  
  
Charlie sighed, his hand, fingers weathered from age and skin wrinkled and covered with freckles, running through his now white hair. “Well, it used to be red,” he whispered before looking at the stone bearing her name. “I miss you, baby. So much, every day. It’s almost been a year, you know? I wake up reaching for you, hoping it’s all been a bad dream and that you’ll be there to scold me for using too many covers with that gorgeous smile meant just for me.”  
  
Blinking away tears, he leaned his forehead against the cold stone, able to remember the feel of her warm body pressed against his. “I’ve tried, Hermione. I’ve tried to be brave and strong and keep on without you, but I can’t. I’m an old man now, and life isn’t life without you. Why couldn’t I have come with you? I ask myself that every day, knowing it’s wrong to think like that but, God, I miss you.”  
  
His fingers traced her name, Hermione Jane Weasley, Beloved wife and mother, born: September 19, 1979, died: October 22, 2064. “Do you ever come back, baby? There are times I swear I can feel you, watching me like you used to, your arms around me. But when I look, you’re still gone and I’m still alone. I’m tired of being alone, love. I had you for sixty-one wonderful years so how can I be expected to go on without you?”  
  
Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he closed his eyes, able to see her instantly, the way she’d looked when he’d first asked her out. She’d been twenty-four, blushing and surprised, and then she’d smiled such a beautiful smile and said yes. His life had changed with that one word. He saw her when he’d proposed, her hair around her face in wild curls, her smile so wide as she’s thrown herself into his arms whispering yes over and over. At their wedding, dancing with all his family, her eyes finding him as she charmed them all.  
  
“I can’t do it anymore, baby. I’ve tried and I’ve tried but it’s not enough. I know I promised, I know I said I’d keep on even it if hurt to not have you, that I’d watch out for our family, but I can’t. I miss you…I need you. It’s not…It’s not a life without you, Hermione. It’s getting colder. Winter will be here soon and I don’t want to live through another winter, not without you to cuddle beside me to keep me warm by the fire, or to see your face as you watch the first snowfall. I’m going to be ninety-three in December, love, so I’ve had a long life, a happy life.”  
  
Taking a deep breath, he felt it pull at his lungs, hating the fact that he was a Pureblood even more now that she was gone and he had decades ahead of him. His eyes stung as he opened them to focus on the flowers by her stone. His voice was quiet as he asked, “Will you forgive me if I give up and just let age take me? I can’t live another year, much less dozens, without you, love. I won’t do anything stupid, promised I wouldn’t, but I can give up, can’t I? Stop fighting to live and just let it take me, let it bring me back to you…God, Hermione, I miss you so bloody much.”  
  
He started to cry, knowing he must present a lovely picture sobbing on his wife’s tombstone, clinging to the granite as if it was her warm, curvaceous body that he’d held for two-thirds of his life. He could almost feel her lips against his cheek, her hand ruffling his white hair, her arms holding him so tight. When he heard a whisper on the wind, he smiled. “I love you, too. So bloody much.”  
  
Leaning against her grave, he slowly nodded when he heard another whisper, fingers tracing her first name over and over. Feeling content for the first time since she had left him, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer until they were together again. He was ready to join Hermione, to be with her again. “Soon, love.”


End file.
